


Learning to Drive (working title)

by Star7



Category: Slam Dunk
Genre: Anal Sex, Confused Sendoh, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Friends With Benefits, Friends having sex, Gay Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Pizza, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star7/pseuds/Star7
Summary: “Sex is a bit like learning to drive. At first it seems impossible, trying to manage the pedals, the gears, the steering, and navigation all at once. But before you know it, you’re going too fast down the highway, blasting music and screaming with delight. Yeah, sex really is a lot like that.”When Fujima asks his friend Sendoh to help him explore his sexuality, Sendoh agrees without realising that Fujima will not be the only one “learning how to drive”.A fic in three chapters.Chapter 1: Sendoh x Fujima (explicit!).Later Fujima x Maki; Sendoh x Rukawa.Yeah, I’m tagging the pizza.
Relationships: Fujima Kenji/Maki Shinichi, Fujima Kenji/Sendoh Akira, Rukawa Kaede/Sendoh Akira
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a magnificent plot bunny by Kay. Catch that rabbit and cook it!

“I don’t know what to do,” Fujima concluded with a sigh, twirling his straw through his boba balls, setting another puff of milk drifting through the ice of his tea.

Sendoh leaned back, folded his arms, and stared up at the ceiling. A single ceiling fan was rotating too slowly to do anything about the uncomfortable heat. It was certainly summer. Around them, the usually bustling cafe was lethargic and slow, as if everyone were affected by the hot sticky air.

“We should go somewhere with air conditioning,” he said.

A small pastry hit him in the side of the face with uncanny accuracy and stuck there like a big flaky polkadot. “Did you hear anything I said?!”

Sendoh lifted one large hand and carefully peeled the morsel off his cheek. A sticky smudge of lemon curd remained behind. He lifted an eyebrow and gave Fujima a _look_. The coach-come-captain of Shoyo was pouting. For a supposed genius, he sure did have a childish streak. Sendoh sometimes half wondered how he’d got into this friendship in the first place.

“You like Maki,” Sendoh said, lifting a tissue and wiping the lemony goo from his face. “But you don’t know if you like him enough to fuck him.”

Fujima’s jaw dropped open. “ _Don’t_ say it so _loud!_ ”

Sendoh gave a shrug and pretended to fiddle with the tissue on the table to hide his smirk. “Well,” he concluded. “I don’t know what you expect me to say about it.”

Fujima glared at him and took a long, noisy slurp of his sweet milk tea. “Have you ever…?” he asked finally, “You know.”

Sendoh lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“...with a guy?”

Sendoh snorted. “No.”

“Oh.”

There was silence. Sendoh reached for another lemon tart and fit the whole thing comfortably into his mouth. Fujima watched him tensely. The way his tongue curled pink at the corner of his mouth, catching crumbs. His long fingers twisting the tissue. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment at the sensation of the sweet and sour curd filling his mouth. Fujima swallowed.

“Would you?”

Sendoh’s eyes slowly opened and focused on him again. “Fuck a guy?” he asked.

Fujima nodded dumbly, breath held.

Sendoh did not dismiss this suggestion immediately as Fujima had half feared he would. He seemed to be legitimately lulling it over. It was no secret that Sendoh Akira was rather adventurous. As far as Fujima knew, he’d only had a couple of girlfriends – both older, college students – but even so, his reputation had travelled fast. Perhaps it was mostly just gossip fuelled by the fanciful daydreams of starstruck admirers. It was hard to say for sure. Still, Fujima had always had the impression that there wasn’t much Sendoh Akira wouldn’t at least… try. That was just his personality. Someone who was there to sample each and every flavour of life on offer. The sort of person who, when faced with the menu, ordered something different every time.

“I guess...” Sendoh concluded thoughtfully, “...maybe.”

Fujima allowed himself to release his breath. He tilted his head a little, wondering if perhaps Sendoh had had someone specific in mind when he’d answered like that. He resisted the temptation to ask.

“What about me?” he asked instead.

Sendoh’s head lifted. “What do you mean?”

“Would you...” Fujima forced himself to say, taking a quick breath, “...fuck _me_?”

Sendoh’s brows crinkled together in confusion. “You mean like… hypothetically?”

Fujima slowly shook his head.

“Kenji,” Sendoh stared at him. “What are you trying to say?”

Fujima closed his eyes and gave a frustrated groan. “I just… want to _know_ ,” he replied. “What it’s like. Or… if I like it. Or… if I can even do it. I just...” he heaved a sigh. “I don’t want to chase him, only to find out that... I can’t. You know?”

Sendoh rubbed his temples with his index fingers. “That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

"Yeah..." Fujima gave an awkward laugh, "I guess so." He peered at Sendoh across the table, waiting. There was a long silence. “Well?" Fujima asked eventually. "Are you up for it?”

Sendoh let out a long and dramatic sigh, dropping his hands to his lap and looking up at his friend. His stare made Fujima's breath stick.

Sendoh was as magnetically handsome as always. His jaw perfectly chiselled, and his eyes kind. An unbearable mixture of hotness and goodness. All innocence and experience both. The sort of face that captured hearts with each careless glance. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and stirring in Fujima's chest. He shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I'm in. Why not?”

-tbc


	2. Sendoh and Fujima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sendoh joins Fujima for a night of experimentation.

It was getting too dark to see the basket. Rukawa spun the ball between his palms, eyes fixed on the rim.

“One more,” he said.

Sendoh laughed. “Be realistic,” he complained. “How can we play when we can’t see?”

Rukawa said nothing, squeezing the ball between the tips of his fingers.

“I bought drinks from the convenience store,” Sendoh said, gesturing to the plastic bag that had fallen on its side by the bench. “It’s hot. Help yourself to whatever you want. I’m going to wash my hands.”

The older boy headed over to the small tap in the far corner of the public court. Rukawa, after a moment, followed his suggestion, and went to examine the bag.

It wasn’t unusual. Sendoh often showed up with drinks and snacks, although Rukawa rarely took them when offered. He didn’t much care for sweet things. He often wondered how Sendoh could maintain his physique when his diet was so horrific.

Today, however, the weather was truly terrible and Rukawa could feel the sweat trickling down his back unpleasantly. One of Sendoh’s cold drinks might be welcome. He set the basketball down by his feet and crouched, beginning to rustle the plastic as he rifled inside the bag. As Sendoh had said, there were four bottles of sports drinks, with different coloured labels. Pocari Sweat and Aquarius. There was also a granola bar, a packet of crisps, and two rectangular boxes. One was long, small and dull. Some sort of deodorant, Rukawa guessed. The other was made of an interesting luminous silver cardboard. Curious, drawn to the shiny material like a magpie, Rukawa took the box in his fingers and drew it out to have a look. 

Though he glanced at the front, the contents were not immediately obvious.

_Platinum._

Some sort of new snack?

He turned it around.

_0.03mm thickness condoms,_ it said.

He dropped the box like it had bitten him.

Feeling betrayed, he grabbed one of the drinks at random, straightened, and walked quickly away, putting as much distance between himself and the bag as possible. _Why the hell would Sendoh bring condoms to their one-on-one?_

Sendoh came back over, wiping his hands dry on his shorts. Thankfully, the oncoming dark meant that it was not easy to notice the blush on Rukawa’s cheeks.

“Well,” Sendoh said casually, “I’ve gotta get going.” He bent down and hooked the handles of the plastic bag with one hand and sent Rukawa a smile. The same meaningless one as always. “See you on Monday?”

It was framed as a question, but it wasn’t one really. Rukawa was always at the court after school, rain or shine.

Rukawa did not reply, but this did not affect Sendoh. Rukawa was often quiet, and Sendoh didn’t trouble himself about it. 

Sendoh gave a loose wave and turned to leave, so confident in Rukawa’s intended presence on Monday afternoon that he didn’t even need to wait for an answer.

Rukawa parted his lips for a moment. His mouth opening as if he would call out. As if he would say _No. No, don’t take me for granted. I won’t always be here._

But of course, he didn’t say that. He said nothing. His lips closed again. He only watched as Sendoh pulled out his phone, the bright screen casting a glow in the quickly descending dark and began tapping out a message even as he walked. He did not look back. He wound his way thoughtlessly out of the court, leaving Rukawa behind.

Rukawa was watching still as Sendoh looked each way and jogged casually across the street. There was a car waiting there. A tiny boxy thing, stopped under a streetlight that was flickering into life. Sendoh climbed into the passenger seat. The thud of the door closing was audible across the road where Rukawa stood. Then the car spluttered as it started up and drove away, lights bright.

Rukawa looked down at the sports drink in his hand. Insubstantial and common. A strange feeling seemed to have come into his chest. He didn’t know what it was.

For a moment he contemplated not coming to the court on Monday. He wondered how it would make Sendoh feel if he didn't show as expected.

He turned towards his own duffle bag and began to stuff the basketball inside.

The thought was idiotic.

Sendoh wouldn’t care.

* * *

Fujima, hands on the steering wheel, glanced across at Sendoh. “Thanks for this.”

Sendoh looked a little cramped, squeezed into the small space, his knees uncomfortably high, legs too long. He waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t need to _thank_ me. Don’t make it weird.”

Fujima turned his attention back to the road.

“Why’d you drive a car so tiny?” Sendoh complained.

“It’s my sister’s. She uses it to commute to college.”

“She home?”

“Yeah but it’s Friday night. She won’t be back until tomorrow. And my parents are away.” He hit the indicator and shifted down a gear.

“Convenient.”

“Yeah.” Fujima paused. He bit his lip for a moment. “So. You’re still playing with that Shohoku kid?”

“Rukawa? Yeah. After school,” Sendoh acknowledged.

Fujima guided the car out onto the main road. “Why?”

The question bought Sendoh up short. _Why?_

“Why not?” he countered.

“I’m just wondering,” Fujima said, checking a mirror, “what you get out of it.”

“Oh. Well. He’s, ah-” Sendoh considered. “Well, I guess that he’s kind of interesting.”

Fujima frowned doubtfully. “If you say so."

They agreed that they would order out for dinner. Although Fujima’s home was large and the kitchen quite fancy, neither of them had any interest in cooking.

As teenaged boys, however, they did have interest in other things.

“Let’s do it now?” Sendoh suggested at once, kicking off his shoes by the door.

“Sure, okay,” Fujima replied. He wasn’t sure whether he was nervous or not. Sendoh didn’t seem to be. But then again, it wasn’t ever easy to tell what Sendoh Akira was thinking. Fujima led the way up the stairs in his socks.

“I’d better shower first,” Sendoh said aloud as he continued following Fujima to his bedroom door. “I’ve been playing all afternoon.”

“I’ll get you a towel,” Fujima replied. “I have an en suite.”

“Fancy!” Sendoh grinned, and followed him in.

Fujima’s bedroom, like the rest of the house, was generously sized. He had a double bed all to himself. His desk, workspace and bookshelves were untidy by the window. Although the contents of Fujima’s mind were well organised, his reality was usually quite chaotic. Sendoh wandered closer to examine the untidy pile of textbooks, then he turned to see Fujima dragging off his t-shirt and flinging it onto a nearby chair carelessly. It seemed strange right then to Sendoh that Fujima's chest was flat and hard and angular. His eyes were not used to men's bodies in bedrooms where he usually found himself together with women; all curves and soft smiles.

“It’s too hot,” Fujima complained, pouting. “I’ll put on the air.”

The older boy reached for the air conditioning remote as Sendoh decided to mirror him, and pulled his own sweaty shirt over his head and then stood, chest bare, in the middle of Fujima’s bedroom.

The lights were on. Bright. The air conditioner picked up, and blew cold air over them both.

“Through here?” Sendoh asked, pointing at a door.

“Yeah, uhm, here-” Fujima tossed him a towel from a chest of drawers.

He didn’t toss him anything else. 

Sendoh shrugged and decided to just go with it.

When he stepped out of the annexed bathroom a short while later, he was naked except for the towel that he had chosen to wrap around his wet hair.

Fujima, who had been lounging around, sitting on the floor by his bed and watching the sports news on his small bedroom TV set, startled a little at his appearance.

Sendoh grinned. “Like it?” he dragged the towel free from his hair, shook his head a little to loosen his wet locks, and then did a slow turn on the spot.

Fujima was amused by Sendoh's confidence, and snorted dismissively. But he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away either. His gaze fixed on the hard shape of muscles in Sendoh’s thighs, his buttocks, his abdomen. Then they swung down to the long, soft organ between his legs, topped with a rough patch of dark hair that tapered up in a tiny trail towards his navel.

_Wow._

Fujima was not unused to seeing male bodies. Firstly, he was gay. He was pretty sure of that. And he'd watched a _lot_ of porn. Secondly, he was the captain of the basketball team and he’d seen enough naked basketball players in locker rooms to find even Sendoh’s magnificent body rather average by objective comparison.

But that was something distant and unrelated to him. And this was _now._ In his bedroom. About to do who-knew-what together.

Suddenly he felt self conscious, sitting there bare-chested in his slacks. Fujima was a strikingly handsome young man. He knew his appeal very well - he could attract men at bars like flies. But staring at Sendoh now he wasn’t too sure whether he wanted to climb up his leg or run for the hills. Sendoh was a good ten centimetres taller than Fujima. Wider at the shoulders. More chiselled in the abs. And significantly... longer… of... cock.

Fujima swallowed.

“You okay?” Sendoh asked him. He came forward, and for some reason Fujima’s attention was drawn to the size of his feet, huge against the mat, his ankles pronounced and weirdly erotic. “Have you ever done this kind of thing before? I mean, are you a virgin?”

Fujima forced himself to look up into Sendoh’s face instead of just staring like an idiot at his massive feet. “Uhm,” he licked his lips compulsively. “I’ve sucked a bit of cock,” he said, “if that counts.”

Sendoh brightened at this piece of information. “Oh yeah?” he moved to the side and perched naked on the edge of the bed. “Sure it counts. I guess.” He tilted his head. “Do you wanna… start with that?”

Fujima let out his breath. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Sendoh spread his thighs in casual invitation. “Go ahead.”

Fujima swallowed hard. “Okay.”

He didn’t have to crawl very far. Just turn around, where he sat, and then shuffle forward on his knees until he was between Sendoh’s thighs. It wasn’t worth thinking too hard about what he felt or what he was doing or whether or not it really was _weird_. He didn’t feel anything for Sendoh in a romantic sense. He didn’t want a relationship with him or a level of exclusivity or anything like that. But only an idiot would not be turned on by the guy sitting there with perfect nonchalance, unreasonably thick cock soft in Fujima’s face. He was charming. And handsome. And absolutely outrageous.

So Fujima took it in his long fingers and brought it to his lips where he kissed it on the tip. It was clean and cool to touch. It reminded him of the cocks he’d seen in porn videos. Perfect. Shaped just right. Smooth and tactile.

“You should work in porn,” he decided to say.

“Thanks,” Sendoh acknowledged with a carefree tip of his head.

Fujima opened his mouth and took it inside.

Sendoh didn’t expect to feel very much or enjoy it particularly. His natural inclination had always attracted him to women. And while he didn't mind joining Fujima's experiment, it was just to help out, and not because it was something Sendoh had any particular desire to do.

As it was, with Fujima's lips slurping and suckling around his cock, gender became momentarily an irrelevant construct. A male or female mouth was practically indistinguishable when it was blowing your dick. So Sendoh leaned back a little, palms pressed into the bedsheets, letting his head tip back, and groaned to the ceiling.

Fujima looked up at the sound, eyes hooded and seductive, lips stretched taut around the organ that had hardened into a thick rod in his mouth. He was the very picture of erotic submission, with his wide eyes framed by long shivering lashes, his long fingers pressing uncertainly into Sendoh's inner thighs, and his head bobbing gently, dragging the erection in and out, pressed tight against the rim of his lips. The cock emerged, glittering with saliva before pressing back inwards with an unbearably slow glide, Fujima’s lips squeezing against every contour in a perfect fit. Fujima Kenji was, in fact, truly beautiful. Unfortunately Sendoh didn’t see any of this, with his face to the ceiling, concentrating more on the sensation than on the person giving it to him.

However, Fujima was glad to hear the sounds of his pleasure, and moved a little faster, a little more confidently, keen to hear it again. It felt good to make someone like Sendoh Akira moan for him. He chewed down with his lips, curled his tongue, pressed his fingers with a little more boldness into his thighs, then brought them forwards to fondle playfully with the soft sack hanging beneath the shaft.

“Ah-“ Sendoh said from somewhere above him, the apple in his throat bobbing alluringly. “Ngh. _Yes_.”

Fujima closed his eyes and felt himself hum with pleasure. It was nice. To feel this weight in his mouth, over his tongue. To think about what he was doing - _sucking cock_. It made him hard just doing this. He didn’t need to touch himself or imagine what Sendoh might do to him. He wanted this, liked this. Doing this. It felt... right.

He’d watched many blow jobs played out before his eyes on a screen but the reality was always somewhat different. Less perfect. More awkward. More knees aching and jaw burning. But better, too. He’d done it before, in clubs with men he didn’t know the names of. Short, fumbling encounters in bathroom stalls that ended in tissues. But doing it with _Sendoh_. Well. His stomach twisted with pleasure. It was so risky. So foolhardy. In some ways humiliating. Being down on his knees. Providing this... _service_.

He really did like it a lot.

He tried to imagine that Sendoh was Maki. The effect on him was instantaneous.

_Oh_.

Fuck, that was even better.

He forced himself to open his eyes. He didn’t want to keep imagining Maki, tempting as it was. Sendoh was giving him this. It would be kind of rude to imagine him as someone else.

He pulled back. “Akira?” he spoke his name. Partly in enquiry, partly to orientate himself in the moment. To remind himself of who they were and what they were doing.

Sendoh looked down at him kneeling there, and then made a careless gesture with his hand. “Come up here,” he said, inviting Fujima up onto the bed.

Fujima rose to his feet.

Sendoh considered him standing there, still dressed in his slacks, chest bare to the cool air of the room. “And take those off,” Sendoh added, nodding at the pants.

Fujima hesitated a moment. But it was stupid, he reasoned, to act shy about it all now. He hooked his thumbs under his waistband and wiggling his hips as he pushed down boxers and slacks all together. They puddled on the floor and he stepped out of them, trying not to blush, aware of Sendoh’s eyes on him. His erection, although smaller than Sendoh’s, was prominent. Glistening slightly at the tip. Ready. Distinctly _male_. Like a sword. A powerful piece of masculinity that even Fujima's rather feminine looks could not soften. He was, very much, a man.

Sendoh took in the sight with curiosity, his eyes fixed upon it with a mild expression. He did not display desire, nor disgust. He did not seem to be affected by much of anything.

“You still okay?” Sendoh asked him then, not looking away from Fujima’s cock.

“Yeah-" Fujima nodded. He didn’t know what he’d expected from Sendoh. He still didn’t know what he thought about all this; having this straight guy sitting naked on his bed. He tilted his head. “How about you? Are you... still okay to do this?”

His concern must have been audible in his tone, because Sendoh reacted to it, looking up into his face. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“Still straight?” Fujima enquired lightly, trying his best to frame it as a joke, as if he could defuse his sudden feeling of awkwardness. He reached down to his erection and gave it a stroke, as if demonstrating a new product to a potential customer. He did it as if he were confident of his body and of Sendoh's aproval, though in reality he was not sure of either. As he’d expected, Sendoh’s attention went back to it at once, zeroing in on it. Fujima suspected that Sendoh was maybe not as comfortable as he was pretending. Wasn’t it strange, after all, for a straight guy to make himself erotically familiar with another man’s arousal?

But then Sendoh lifted his hands. Long, tan, strong fingers took Fujima’s hips comfortably in their span and pulled him closer into Sendoh’s space. Fujima allowed himself to be pulled in a little reluctantly, worried that Sendoh might not be comfortable with his closeness.

“Yes,” Sendoh confirmed softly, his voice low and dusky. “I’m still straight.” Then he bent down and, to Fujima’s abject astonishment, closed his mouth fully around Fujima’s cock. He did it with all casualness. As if he'd done it a million times before. As if there was nothing remarkable or noteworthy about the action whatsoever.

“Shit-!” Fujima exclaimed in surprise, feeling the delicious wet heat all around him. He had not in a million years expected Sendoh to do this. In fact he’d rather expected Sendoh to back down.

_Underestimated him_ , he thought to himself, half in reprimand, half in amusement.

Sendoh kept his hot mouth latched around Fujima’s erection as he pulled him down onto the bed beside him, clambering up onto his knees to maintain their connected state, not letting him go even as Fujima shuffled his weight backwards until he was laying fully on the bed, Sendoh hovering above him.

“Well you - could have - fooled - me -“ Fujima gasped disjointedly as Sendoh began to bob his head, a slight smirk flickering at the corners of his lips that Fujima could practically feel slipping up and down the sides of his cock. “Oh - oh - _fuck_ -" a wanton groan puffed out from his lips as Sendoh began to imitate his actions from a moment before, pressing his tongue against the shaft and slurping up and down, chewing down with his lips. Saliva trickled from the corners of his mouth, coating Fujima and dribbling down in the small patch of mousey brown hair at the base.

Fujima tossed his head against the sheets, trying to distract himself from the pleasure that Sendoh was building in him. The shudders ran through his whole body, every inch of him seeming to wind up tight into another bloom of pleasure that ebbed only a little before beginning to wind itself up again to greater heights. Fujima didn’t dare to think of Maki. Or think of Sendoh. Or even think at all. Frightened that his imagination would push him too quickly over the edge he tried to distract himself. He thought of mundane things. His homework. Training on Monday with his teammates. What they were going to order for dinner.

But although he tried to force his mind away from the pleasure Sendoh was pushing on him, he found that time and again all his attention was dragged back to Sendoh’s mouth, while his throbbing cock demanded his awareness like he was a hooked fish being reeled in towards it. It quickly became impossible to think of anything else, despite his attempts. His most careful thoughts spiralled rapidly into meaningless mush. If this went on any longer he was going to - he was going to -

“Stop!” He gasped fairly soon. “Akira, stop.” He put one hand on Sendoh’s head in a half-hearted attempt to push him away. “You have to stop, or I’ll-”

But Sendoh did not move away, and Fujima found that the ineffective effort to push him off only heightened his pleasure as a vulnerable feeling of powerlessness assailed him.

“No -“ he tried again, his voice turning to a plea. “Akira. _Akira_. You have to - ah! - stop - ngh!”

Sendoh sent him a heated glance from down by his hips. The meaning in his eyes was clear; _I can hear you. I know what you want. But I don't intend to oblige._

Fujima gave an anxious hiccup, the pleasure spiralling away from him and far out beyond his control.

Sendoh Akira was _powerful_ , Fujima realised then with a nervous thrill. Physically, of course yes. But in other ways too. His natural dominance. All the control, all the decisions within this stretch of bed would belong to Sendoh. And Fujima, for the moment, was merely his plaything. It seemed he could do nothing but surrender.

Fujima felt one hand cup gently around his balls, causing the pleasure to wrap closer and tighter around his shaft, while a finger came and ran in a long, threatening swipe up the full length of his crack, brushing purposefully against his opening in a brief and meaningful greeting. As if to say - _I know all about this. And I’m going to take you apart._

It was the intimacy of the touch that shocked Fujima into letting go. All the pride and arrogance he was clinging to; trying to hold back, wanting to maintain his control. All of that was foolish. He was helplessness before Sendoh's strength. He was merely an instrument upon which Sendoh would play whatever music he desired. And Fujima could do absolutely nothing at that moment but sing to Sendoh's song.

That feeling - the total loss of his reticence - was all he needed to tip right over the edge.

He came with a short, terrified shout.

Terrified because, despite Sendoh’s willingness, Fujima still couldn’t believe he’d _want_ another man to actually _spurt_ in his _mouth_. He couldn’t help subconsciously expecting Sendoh’s censure, or disgust, or anger, as if Fujima had done something wrong - something shameful or embarrassing. He thought for sure that Sendoh would pull back, pull away, ruin his orgasm, spit it out, and be absolutely furious about it. It was too much to ask. Too much to ask from a friend. Too much to ask anyone.

But Sendoh did not pull back. He collected Fujima’s orgasm in his mouth with a quiet contentedness. Closing his eyes as he milked him, something peaceful and easy in his expression that left Fujima reeling with both pleasure and disbelief.

_Is this real?_ He wondered to himself in a daze. _Am I dreaming?_

Sendoh waited until Fujima collapsed, fully boneless, against the sheets, spent. Then he discreetly reached to the side for a tissue and spat the white, milky glob of come and saliva into it.

“You okay?” He asked with another of those unreadable smiles as he surveyed Fujima laying limp and sweaty and wrecked against the sheets.

Fujima took a rough breath. “I’ve never come like that before,” he admitted breathlessly.

“Like what?”

“Right in someone’s mouth.”

“Really?”

Fujima shook his head, gazing blurredly up at the ceiling.

“Well? How was it?”

Fujima closed his eyes. “Good. Really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sendoh shifted his weight, and Fujima felt the motion of the mattress springs as Sendoh got up from the bed.

“Got any clothes?” Sendoh asked. “I’m hungry.”

“Oh-"

Fujima had to take a moment to orientate his thoughts. It was difficult. He needed to somehow drag himself out of his own imposed submission. Actually, the sudden change in pace felt a little strange. Fujima wanted to lie there a little longer. Doing nothing. Feeling his pleasure still ebbing away, like tingles in his fingers. He sort of wanted someone to put their arms around him. Hold him, stroke his hair, and tell him he was beautiful. Take care of him. Love him.

But it wasn’t like that, after all. Not with Sendoh.

Fujima had to shake his head from side to side to wake himself up from his stupor. “But, what about-?” His eyes moved to Sendoh’s lower body. He saw that Sendoh's arousal had mostly flagged, his cock returning to its long, soft state.

Sendoh paid it no attention, stretching luxuriously, his tall and powerful body on full show. Pure confidence. Each muscle slid and stretched beneath his skin in a way that made Fujima’s mouth feel dry. Hell. Every inch of Sendoh Akira was tiger.

“Can we eat first? I’d kill for some pizza.”

“Pizza?” Fujima echoed, running his fingers self-consciously over his bare chest. He felt less like a tiger and more like prey at that moment. Made to be taken, dominated, overwhelmed. Was it weird to stop, for pizza? But he realised he was feeling hungry too. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Pizza. Sure.” He scrambled up from the bed, staggering only slightly as he went to a chest of drawers and began to hunt for clothes for them both. This small action of doing something made him feel a little more like himself. “Pizza,” he said again. “Perfect.”

On an ordinary day, pizza would have been the last thing Fujima Kenji would have chosen. He’d given plenty of lectures to his team about the importance of eating clean and eating healthy. Sure, Fujima had something of a perchance for sweet things, and pastries tended to make their way between his lips more often than strictly they ought. But pizza? No. He wouldn’t have thought of ordering that.

But it was a strange day. And Sendoh Akira was an unusual person. And what tigers wanted tigers got. So Fujima managed to dig out an old delivery menu from somewhere and ordered mostly at random.

“Something with meat?” he guessed, still thinking of tigers pas Sendoh came downstairs dressed in some of Fujima’s clean sportswear. A loose hoodie and sweatpants that were a little too small. Fujima could see a good inch of skin and ankle below the hem.

“Whatever you prefer," Sendoh smiled at him obligingly. The ferocious persona was gone, Sendoh's usual boyish charm returned, leaving Fujima half wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing. Perhaps the "tiger" had all been a figment of his own erotic imaginings.

Sendoh flopped onto the sofa and grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV and navigating to the sports channel. He watched a few rounds of tennis while Fujima finished ordering and then came to sit beside him.

He probably still looked a little fucked out, his eyes aglow with the lingering internal electricity, because Sendoh said cautiously, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

“How’d you figure out you were gay?”

Sendoh clicked off the set and physically turned towards Fujima in curiosity. Even this simple motion, the slight twist in his torso, the angle of his thighs and his knees, was appealing. He seemed so perfectly proportioned. So perfectly made. This man, Fujima decided, was unbearable.

Still, Fujima considered the question. It was unusual for Sendoh to ask much. He’d never been one to pry into other people’s lives and minds, content to sail wherever he was heading on his own particular boat. But he seemed interested in this, so Fujima answered him.

“I don't know. I'm still not sure but... I think I just... always was."

“You mean, when you jerk off you always think of cock?”

Fujima pursed his lips at the crudeness, inadvertently making himself adorably kissable. “I suppose so.”

“Hmm."

Fujima frowned. “Well, what gives you the gall to claim to be straight while you’re sucking me off?”

Sendoh shrugged and grinned. “I'm just trying. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“So, you’ve really never thought about it before?”

“Thought about what?”

“Thought about _cock_. About _men_." Fujima gestured with one hand. "Haven’t you ever pulled your oar thinking about a guy?”

Sendoh looked genuinely puzzled at this. “I don’t think I have.”

Fujima looked a little disbelieving. But soon his face broke into a grin and he couldn’t help an affectionate chuckle. “You’re outrageous." He tilted his head, brown hair falling in a soft drift over delicate eyes. “You- really don’t mind doing this?”

“I don’t mind.”

“You're really good at it, you know."

Sendoh blew air from his nostrils. “Well, thanks.”

When the pizza arrived at the door, Fujima opened it still looking rather disheveled. His hair was mused, his clothes rumpled, and he had that light in his eyes that was still bright with his lingering pleasure. He'd bitten his lips into a bright pink redness that the delivery boy could not stop staring at.

Fujima always had been quite the sight. But right then, standing in the doorframe, he was mightily fuckable.

The delivery boy was youthful and cute and rather obviously stunned by the vision before him. Feeling gratified by the attention, Fujima sent him a few teasing smiles, and delighted at the way boy blushed and didn’t seem to know where to look as he sheepishly handed over the pizza box. That was until Sendoh showed up behind Fujima and put a possessive hand on Fujima’s shoulder, standing so close that Fujima could feel his body heat against his back.

“Everything all right?” Sendoh enquired, his eyes on the delivery boy as he leant down to nibble possessively on the tip of Fujima’s ear. Fujima could practically feel Sendoh’s mischievous smirk against his temple.

The delivery boy spluttered a confused expression of thanks at the sudden appearance of this tall and handsome rival, gave Fujima a last lingering gaze, and practically ran off.

“What are you playing at now?” Fujima enquired mildly, kicking the door shut with one foot and turning to look at Sendoh who seemed rather pleased with himself.

“Just trying,” he answered with a grin.

“Trying what?”

“I don’t know,” Sendoh shrugged. “Being gay? Having a boyfriend?”

Fujima tutted. “It’s not something you can _try_.”

“No? Isn’t that why I’m here? So you can... try?”

Fujima lifted an eyebrow and tried to look annoyed, but didn’t have any response to that.

They ate half the pizza. And then they went back upstairs. To _try_ some more.

Fujima was, Sendoh decided, very much like a girl. And that was probably why his dick was so hard at the sight of him.

He had this smooth skin, for one thing. Unblemished. Soft. Pale. Sendoh moved his hand curiously over Fujima’s rear, marvelling at it. He kneaded it gently, admiring the indentations beneath his finger tips, the slight flush. Hairless and sweet smelling.

Fujima, waiting on his hands and knees, sent him an expectant glance over his shoulder.

It was certainly quite a view, sitting right behind him like this. Hell, all he had to do was lean forward a little and he could have pressed his nose right into his twitching hole. Sendoh could trace the line of his hips, narrow waist, the dipping curve of his spine, the beauty of his face in profile, fringe falling alluring over his eyes. He had long lashes, a slim build, long elegant limbs. Even the package that hung between his legs seemed small, tight and smooth - Fujima had confessed that he’d had it waxed - and surprisingly tactile and fun to touch. Sendoh was quite sure his own organs would hardly be such an attractive sight if he were to attempt a similar pose. Hands and knees. Back arched. Waiting. Offering. Fujima was very feminine and every inch a beauty. Maki, Sendoh couldn’t help thinking, was going to be one lucky guy if he decided to pluck this particular flower.

Sensing Fujima’s impatience, Sendoh stopped admiring his ass, and turned his attention to the hole in between the cheeks.

“Lube?” He asked, like a doctor ordering a scalpel from a nurse, and Fujima pushed the small box back to him. Sendoh had bought it together with a pack of condoms at the convenience store on his way to his one-on-one with Rukawa. It felt like a long time ago now. Had it really only been a few hours? His mind fixed for a brief moment on Rukawa, his face silent and pale like a moon in the gathering darkness. Rukawa was taller than Fujima. And his looks veered towards a more masculine type of beauty. But he was, perhaps, a little bit... pretty. Just a bit. But not like a girl. Definitely not like a girl. Although, he did have those lashes and the occasional pout that make his lips seem-

“Akira?”

“Huh?” He startled a little, and realised that he was sitting and reading the side of the box of lube like he was looking for instructions. “Oh-."

He quickly tore off the cellophane and opened the box.

He hadn’t had sex this way before. Of course not with a man, but not with a woman either. His understanding of how it was meant to go was pretty rudimentary. Sendoh was not an irresponsible lover, however. He’d done a bit of reading before coming over. So he pumped a generous dollop of the lubricant onto his fingers and knew enough to rub it between his fingers to warm it first.

“You ready?” He asked.

There was something very _unromantic_ about all this. Of course, Sendoh was not expecting romance. Or feelings. Or anything very much. But he was surprised at how mundane it felt. It seemed more like they were organising a school project, or figuring out how to build Ikea furniture. Something everyday and menial. It didn’t feel like Sendoh was pushing his fingers into Fujima’s ass. It didn’t even feel like sex. Fujima’s naked body was beautiful, Sendoh could admit it. Could _see_ it, very clearly. He was aroused, that was true. Equally naked, he sat cross-legged on the bedsheets, cock jutting out from his lap like a upturned spear. But it was something curious, not passionate. Something to try, not something to desire. Strange. But not unwelcome. He _didn’t mind_. Yet he was weirdly ambivalent to it all.

He wondered how Fujima must be feeling. Was it a sad thing, that his first time would be like this? With someone who didn’t really love him? Shouldn’t this experience be something he and Maki figured out on their own, together? Reassuring each other. Learning with each other?

Well, whatever. It wasn’t Sendoh’s business what Fujima chose to do. And besides, perhaps first times were always like this. Awkward and confusing, and more about _what_ is supposed to go in _where_ and _how_ and _it doesn’t fit_ and _it’s in_ and _does it feel good?_ And _no, not really._

As for the rest? That would come later, Sendoh knew. When it all became normal.

It was a bit like learning to drive, he reflected. At first it seems impossible, trying to manage the pedals, the gears, the steering, and navigation all at once. But before you know it, you’re going too fast down the highway, blasting your music and screaming with delight.

Yeah, it was a lot like that.

So what did it matter if Fujima preferred to skip over those most awkward first encounters with Maki and move ahead to the fun bits? It wasn’t as if he was going to miss out on anything, Sendoh supposed. The first time perhaps wasn’t worth all the fanfare that it often seemed to come with. Sendoh respected Fujima’s decision for that.

So he thought no more about it and pushed two fingers inside.

Fujima’s breathing hiccuped. “Uh,” he said. It sounded more like nerves than enjoyment.

“This okay?” Sendoh inquired, moving his fingers a little, in and out.

“Y-yeah,” Fujima stuttered uncertainly, not sounding exactly okay. “Mmm, I- nh, ah.” The sounds were not moans of pleasure, but awkward noises from a person who wants to contribute but doesn’t really know what they’re supposed to say.

Sendoh parted his fingers with some effort, scissoring them, fighting against the resistance of Fujima’s muscles. He glanced down at his cock. It really didn’t look like it was ever going to fit. He decided he probably ought to do this for quite a while.

He kept on working, soon adding a third finger, and the sounds of slick squelching intensified, making Fujima blush rather furiously, looking absolutely adorable.

Fujima, for his part, was a little mortified by what was going on behind him. Like Sendoh he was well aware of the strange, surgical detachment of the moment. He felt more like he was visiting the doctor than being prepped by a lover. But he didn’t mind it, for all that. It was rather a relief, actually, that Sendoh didn’t try to make it all weird and personal. Didn’t pretend to be in love. Didn’t whisper stupid nothings or act out the part of some love-struck admirer. He was confident. And undeniably attractive. And a good friend. Everything Fujima had hoped for. And that was more than enough.

Keep it simple, he thought to himself, remembering his true aim: _Maki Shinichi_.

The thought of that guy made Fujima’s guts twist as they usually did. Yeah, Sendoh Akira was certainly something to admire. But Maki was really something else entirely. Where Sendoh exuded playfulness, friendliness and charm, Maki was serious, focused, and not the type to play around. What an exceptional delight it would be, to be the source of Maki Shinichi’s desire. To be able to say, he’s _mine_. _Him_ , with all his confidence, and his brilliance, and his quiet strength and calm temperament. Maki oozed leadership. Was always so completely in control. An absolute god of a man. And how badly Fujima wanted to pull apart his outward stability and drive him wild with heat and want and pure animalistic desperation. Oh, yes. Fujima wanted nothing quite so much as he wanted to make Maki beg for him.

Sendoh Akira was sort of an easy conquest. But Maki Shinichi’s heart, so far as Fujima was concerned, was a _true prize_.

Thinking of Maki immediately made everything better. The slick of Sendoh’s fingers became smoother, less something to worry about and more something he could start to enjoy. He shuddered, and his body reacted with greater honesty. The butterflies moving between his cock and his chest. A little trail of translucent liquid dripping from the tip to the bedsheets below. A sound echoed in his throat that made the hair on Sendoh’s neck stand on end.

And so, they both seemed to know that this was it. This was the moment.

Sendoh got up onto his knees, tugging his own erection into readiness. He rolled a condom down over it and applied a more than generous quantity of lube. “You sure about this?”

Fujima parted his knees a little wider as Sendoh shuffled in between them. Despite his intention to think only of Sendoh, he couldn’t help the way his mind twisted the entire situation into Maki’s hands, Maki’s warmth, Maki’s voice, and Maki’s presence right there behind him, lining up, getting ready to breach him, claim him, possess him totally. Fujima had to grip the bedsheets tightly and squeeze his eyes closed.

“I’m sure,” he managed to reply. _Really fucking sure_.

“Ok,” Sendoh replied lightly. “I’ll be careful.”

The breach was not as smooth or as effortless as Fujima had been hoping. Despite all the lube, his body screamed at him that this was wrong, and that it wasn’t supposed to be happening. And, hell, Sendoh was _big_. Fujima had thought three expanded fingers a fair approximation of a cock, and that was how he usually masturbated. But oh no hell it wasn’t even close.

Three fingers were illicit and teasing and dangerously addictive. But Sendoh’s cock was pain. Sharp and bright, like something was tearing. And it wasn’t good. Not good at all.

Tears sprung up among his fluttering lashes.

_Why-? Was something wrong? Wasn't he supposed to be able to take this? He'd seen it done, after all. So many times. And porn stars never cried. Unless it was in the script._

Sendoh paused, not even all the way inside. “You okay?”

“H-hurts,” Fujima spluttered back at him, fisting the blanket and struggling to control his breathing.

“Do you want me to pull out?”

“N-n-no. Just- just wait. Wait a moment.”

“Okay.”

Sendoh’s voice was warm and calm and patient, and he did as he said, waiting there still, his hands gently stroking Fujima’s sides.

Fujima couldn’t have been more grateful in that moment to have such a person there with him for this. If it had been Maki, perhaps he would have tried to push himself too hard out of pride. He wouldn’t have wanted Maki to see this side of him - less than perfect, snivelling, uncertain and hurt. No. For Maki he fully intended to be some kind of super star sex kitten. And this was just step one.

_I can do this_ , he schooled himself, burying his face into the bedsheets. _Just... take it slow._

“Is it bleeding?” He asked after a moment. It certainly felt like it was bleeding.

Sendoh leaned back a little to look. “Well,” he said reluctantly. “Just a little bit.”

Fujima frowned but supposed that was to be expected. He tried to make his muscles relax through sheer force of will. “Can you... move slowly?”

Sendoh did exactly as requested without comment. Inching further with the full length of his cock, then drawing very slowly back again. It wasn’t the length, Fujima realised then, so much as the girth that was straining him. The lube made the motion relatively smooth, and he had no real sensation of depth, but the width could not be ignored.

Sendoh kept up a very slow and calm motion, sliding in, and sliding out. Fujima, pressing his face into the bed, struggled to keep himself sufficiently relaxed just to take it. Time passed, but the situation did not change.

Eventually, Sendoh leaned down, curling himself around Fujima’s back, and touched his lips between his shoulder blades. He nibbled affectionately at the skin, tasting sweat and nervousness. “Do you want me to touch you?” He enquired, lips ticklish on Fujima’s skin. He didn’t wait for an answer, but brought one strong arm around Fujima’s waist, under his body, and between his legs. His long fingers wrapped expertly around Fujima’s limp cock and began to tease it gently.

Fujima closed his eyes gratefully.

Sendoh knew exactly what to do with a cock. Unsurprising of course, since he regularly played with his own. But the way he twisted his palm and parted his fingers over the head was different from how Fujima usually did it to himself. It felt new and different, but that was just the way Fujima needed it right then. Something to draw his attention away from the burning in his rear. He let out a long and unsteady breath. It was astonishing to him the amount of _effort_ and _conscious exertion_ required just to keep himself relaxed. The sweat was already damp in his hair, his skin flushed and sticky. He felt _exhausted_. He really couldn't see how this could ever be pleasurable.

“Can you come like this?” Sendoh asked him.

Fujima considered. Sendoh’s hand was a very welcome distraction, but it couldn’t overcome his consciousness of the pain of the rod splitting his rear. Regretfully, he shook his head.

So Sendoh pulled out, and then draped his full weight over Fujima’s back, pressing him down heavily into the bed, giving him the feeling of being trapped and overwhelmed. Then he jerked him off swiftly, with efficient, clever snaps of his fist until Fujima was coming with a muffled scream all over the sheets, empty hole clenching hard around nothing. His second orgasm of the night.

“Let’s take a break,” Sendoh suggested. “And then, if you want, we can try again.”

They went back downstairs to finish the pizza.

Fujima threw it under the grill for a few minutes to restore some of the heat while Sendoh went back to the TV.

Standing in the kitchen waiting for the grill to warm, Fujima reflected on what had transpired so far. He’d attempted a fumbled blow job, but in the end, Sendoh hadn’t come. Then they’d attempted penetration. And Sendoh hadn’t come then either. The condom had been discarded, empty, into the waste bin. Fujima, meanwhile, had come twice already.

He pondered this, discomfort in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Sendoh was not as straight as he claimed to be - after all, he was here, and he was doing _this_. But then... if Sendoh weren’t straight then what did that mean? That Fujima was... disappointing?

It would have been easier on Fujima’s pride to assume that the reason for Sendoh’s apparent lack of pleasure was that he was straight after all. And yet somehow Fujima couldn’t seem to accept that.

_I’ll make him come_ , he decided then, retrieving the now-warm pizza from the oven. It was a point of pride. _I’ll definitely make him come, too._ With that thought in mind, he went out to the living room.

He sat down a little gingerly on the sofa beside Sendoh, very much aware of the strain in his rear. But it didn’t pain him to sit down. It didn’t seem to be paining him at all, actually, beyond a mild discomfort that was more like a heightened awareness than a hurt. A muscle that had trained too hard and had to be treated with care. Vulnerable, weakened, but not damaged. Not yet.

And besides, he _wanted_ to feel it again. That sensation. Being stretched and filled so intimately. Now that he was a little used to it, now that it was less of a shock, he was feeling rather eager to try it again. To test whether he could take it better the second time. He felt sure that he could do it now. It would be better this time. He was confident.

“Well?” Fujima asked as Sendoh reached for a pizza slice. “How is it? Do you think you could do this for real?”

“What?” Sendoh enquired. “Have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Sendoh shrugged and took a mouthful of pizza. “I don’t know. Probably not.” He glanced over at Fujima. “I don’t mean I dislike it, or anything. It’s just that, you know,” he shrugged like it meant absolutely nothing at all. “I like girls.”

Fujima pursed his lips, then bit thoughtfully into his own pizza slice.

“How about you?” Sendoh turned the question back on him. “Do you think you could do it with Maki now?”

Fujima tilted his head. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But I’d still like to try again. If... you don't mind."

Sendoh cracked a grin. “Of course.”

Fujima smiled back and glanced at the clock. It was just past eleven.

“This time,” Sendoh suggested. “Why don’t you try laying on your back, instead? I read that it's a bit easier that way."

Fujima wrinkled his nose a little. Missionary position was not his favourite to watch or fantasise about. There was something foolish about it, he felt. Laying back like that and displaying your balls for all to see. It was not alluring or sensual. It was just... ugly.

“Besides” Sendoh added. “I'd like to watch you come.”

Fujima’s eyes widened a little, his cheeks flushing as he turned his face towards Sendoh at this very unexpected comment. “What? _Why_?”

Sendoh shrugged, glancing at him. “You’d look good,” he said. "I bet."

Fujima blinked slowly at him. “O-kay. But maybe _I’ll_ be the one watching you come.”

Sendoh lifted one eyebrow.

There was something in Fujima’s tone. Something Sendoh had heard before. From Fujima, yes, but from others too. It seemed they were all competitive, the people around him. It was their nature as sportsmen. But Sendoh didn’t feel like he had what most of the others did. That drive. That something like a spark or a fire.

Sendoh was carefree. He was talented, yes. But he coasted his way through things. He did what he had to do, and he tended to stop there. He did things that he enjoyed, and avoided things he didn’t like. There was something instinctive and honest about his basketball. He did it for love. But the moment something was too hard, or too difficult, or too tiring, he’d be the first to step away and find an excuse not to participate.

In that regard, he was very aware, Fujima and Maki were far more like each other than they were like him.

Sometimes he felt like he didn’t belong there, with the Fujimas and the Makis and even the Rukawa Kaedes of the world. Wasn’t he making a mockery of their passion, whenever he showed up and casually rubbed their faces in his natural skill? They worked hard, took things seriously, they strived for it and did their best. But Sendoh wasn’t like that at all. He only ever did what was fun.

They really ought to hate him for it. That he played on par with them, but expended a mere fraction of the effort.

But he was used to it, too. Sometimes it was even a little fun, to torment them a bit.

Especially Rukawa.

_Most_ especially Rukawa.

Sendoh grinned to himself just thinking about it. That particular little flame burning bright. Rukawa took _everything_ seriously. He'd undoubtedly take any opportunity to win over Sendoh. Hell, he’d probably want to beat Sendoh in a noodle-eating contest, given half the chance.

Looking into Fujima’s face then, and seeing a little of that same radiating challenge that shone within Fujima’s expression, made Sendoh wonder whether Rukawa would be as competitive in bed as he was on the court. Would he turn it into a fight, or would he be quite different from how he usually seemed? Would he... surrender? To Sendoh?

Surely not.

But the thought was a strange one. Sendoh was quite sure nothing like it had ever crossed his mind before. Rukawa. In _bed_? What an odd thing to be thinking about. Why should he care?

He shook his head and forced his attention back to Fujima.

“You’re gonna make me come?” he queried lightly, returning to Fujima's words.

Fujima pursed his lips. “Definitely.”

Sendoh smiled. “Let’s do it then.”

Fujima nodded eagerly, half rising to his feet. “Yes. Let’s.”

"Finish the pizza first?"

"Oh. Yeah." Fujima sat back down. "Okay."

Their third attempt was the most successful. Although they went through some of the same preparatory motions as before, this time it was faster - Fujima was already loose, and Sendoh was already halfway to erect. Following Sendoh’s suggestion, they went at it face to face. Fujima lay back amid the pillows, Sendoh looming above him, looking down. The angle was indeed a little more forgiving, Fujima found. It was easier for him to relax, to move and adjust himself, to find the position of least discomfort.

A second condom, most of the rest of the lube, and it wasn’t even ten minutes before Sendoh was fully inside, his hips pressing forward against Fujima’s buttocks, and his eyes rolling back in his head.

_Damn_.

It was good. This. Very good. Sendoh’s lips parted in a silent puff of air. Sweat trickled from his brow, and a low moan worked its way up through his throat. Fujima wiggled a little beneath him, and that was good too. Sendoh’s fingers squeezed tight into the flesh of his thighs, trying to resist the temptation to draw back, and slam back in again.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, although his voice was clearly affected, and his eyes completely unfocused. Last time he’d been so preoccupied with Fujima’s discomfort that he’d barely paid any attention to his own body’s response. But this time was different. And his body was already singing.

He was surprised - very surprised - at just how much he was feeling. He hadn’t expected- hadn’t expected at all that he would _enjoy_ it.

“It’s good,” Fujima replied, voice edged with lust. “It’s - ahhhh.” His words dissolved into meaninglessness as Sendoh began to move.

“Like this?” Sendoh couldn’t resist teasing him a bit.

“Yes,” Fujima gasped, throwing his head back a little, exposing the length of his throat. “Yes. Oh! Yes.”

“Harder?” Sendoh offered, angling himself and beginning to thrust with a bit more vigour. Not full speed. Not yet. But enough to turn Fujima’s tongue to nonsensical splutterings and half-formed words.

“Ngh. I- _ngh_. Ahh ah. Ah!"

Sendoh grinned to himself. As he'd expected, Fujima's face lost in the sensations, was a real pretty sight.

He pushed Fujima’s knees down into his chest, forcing his back into a tighter curl, allowing Sendoh go even deeper.

“And like this?” He asked. He pushed as hard as he dared, feeling the blood boiling up through his limbs. His face must have been flushed. His breath shortened to a rushing and a gasping as he picked up his pace.

It hadn’t been like this before. He couldn’t remember ever feeling quite like this. None of those warm, soft female wells he’d plundered in the past had gripped him like this. Had fought him like this. Had made him feel like he would lose his mind to the pressure that ran the full length of his shaft, from the tip to the base. Squeezing. Squeezing _hard_. And throbbing. Fujima’s body was like thunder. His pulse like a drum that beat against Sendoh’s cock until he was sure he’d somehow brushed against Fujima’s own heart.

He had to hang onto his reason like a castaway clinging to flotsam in the churning waves. Even Fujima's beautiful face was soon no more than an unfocussed blur.

Fujima didn’t reply. Couldn’t, perhaps. His head bobbing helplessly with each rocking motion of Sendoh’s hips, and what little breath remained to him was expended in gasps and groans and moans and half-uttered pleas.

“It’s good,” Sendoh gasped mostly to himself, and mostly in surprise. He bent down, sinking his teeth into the flesh of Fujima’s shoulder as if to hang on to him through the turmoil. _Good. Good._ _Oh._

How odd, that he’d been in such control before. So perfectly attuned to Fujima’s body. His pain. His distress. His needs.

But all of that was wiped away now, as his speed and desperation increased. Fujima’s legs wrapped around his torso, ankles crossed at his back, and seemed to want to pull him ever deeper inside. Sendoh didn’t want to hurt his friend, of course. But it was more a matter of fate now, rather than care. Because he couldn’t stop. Something wild and primitive had taken control of him.

Fujima’s hands fisted tight in his hair and dragged him down to clash lips against lips for the first time. Fujima tasted like he looked - _sweet_. Not thinking at all, Sendoh pushed his way into his mouth and filled him with groans. Fujima’s teeth sunk into the flesh of his lower lip, bringing a sharp flash of pain and the taste of hot blood. But even that was good. Every inch of his body was caught in this, the sensation and the pleasure and - for once - a fire. A real fire.

Fucking a man felt like waging a goddamn war. What the hell had he been missing out for so long? Wasn’t this good? Wasn’t this perfect?

He wanted to love him. Wanted this to continue. There was no pleasure greater than this, Sendoh was convinced, completely drunk on the moment. He'd never known anything like it before. It was addictive. It felt like _victory_.

One two three final, dizzying thrusts that set Fujima close to screaming and the orgasm rocked through Sendoh like an earthquake. Everything was gone. His limbs, all numb. Nothing beneath his knees. Nothing in his mind. Just the pulsing that burst from him in short, spluttering throbs.

They rocked and swayed together in a stupored daze as the pleasure chimed around Sendoh like echoing bells.

Between their bodies, Fujima reached down and wrapped his hand around his own cock. With barely a single stroke, he sent himself over for the third time, spilling across his chest in a hot rush.

As promised, Sendoh kept his eyes open and fixed on Fujima’s expression as he succumbed to the pleasure. It was a beautiful sight. The flush over his cheeks. The trembling of his eyelashes, gently shivering against his skin. The way his hair was damp and limp with sweat. Such a beautiful, delicate thing, Sendoh hardly dared believe it. Why hadn't he realised it before? How very much he wanted to do this.

Finally, Sendoh’s arms gave out and he crashed heavily on the bed beside Fujima, feeling his cock slip sideways and pop out. The ferocious grip of Fujima’s entrance meant the condom got somehow left behind.

“Fuck,” Sendoh gasped into the sheets. He couldn’t seem to articulate any more than that. It almost felt like he’d been the one torn apart. A huge space forced into his body and his mind, making room for this - this _sensation_. This moment. This huge and terrible realisation. “ _Fuck_.”

After a short while, Fujima grimaced. “What the fuck is that stuck in me?!”

Sendoh squeezed his eyes closed and only groaned. He'd hadn't expected much at all. And instead he'd found... this. Something he hadn't even considered before. But now that he had it, he wasn't sure he could let it go again. What else was going to compare? What else could ever be enough?

“Oh, my god, is that the fucking _condom_?” Fujima was feeling blindly with his hands, and sounded horrified.

Sendoh took a moment longer to catch his breath, trying to remember. Trying really hard. It hadn't been all that long ago that he'd been a different person. His old self. Half an hour. Less.

But now he was changed. Now he was... this.

He forced himself up to his knees. “Okay. I’ve got it. I’ve got it." He moved to help Fujima sort out the mess. "Where are the tissues?”

They cleaned up quickly enough and went into the shower one after the other. The intimacy they had shared seemed to evaporate as quickly as it had come. They were... content with one another. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t strange. Sendoh was glad, and Fujima was too.

“Will you stay the night?” Fujima asked. “There’s lots of space.”

Sendoh smiled and thanked him for the offer. “I think I’ll head home.”

“But there are no trains at this time?” Fujima said, concerned.

“That’s okay,” Sendoh replied. “I wouldn’t mind the walk.”

“But it’s miles away! At least call a taxi? I can drive you, if you want?”

Sendoh’s smile was infallible. “No, it’s fine. It’s perfect, in fact.” A nice long walk and time to think was exactly what he needed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Sendoh lied. “Are you?”

Fujima’s lips shimmered slightly under the lights as he smiled. “Yes,” he replied. “I’m... very okay.”

Sendoh looked happy. “I’m glad. Does this mean you’re going to... pursue Maki? For real?”

Fujima nodded slowly. “I think so, yes.”

“He’d be lucky to have you,” Sendoh said sincerely. “You are a beautiful person, Kenji.”

Fujima blushed. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.” His face became more serious. “Thank you. For this. I... really mean it.”

Sendoh let out a laugh, and reached out to ruffle Fujima’s hair playfully, which was not well received at all.

“Get out of my house,” Fujima glowered jokingly, shoving his arm away.

Sendoh finished with a final parting smile, “Then, I’ll see you around?” He stepped out onto the quiet midnight street.

It was dark and silent outside. Fujima waved him off happily, and Sendoh trudged off into the dark. The summer was a hot one, and the night was warm. Even so, Sendoh found himself pulling his light jacket a little closer around himself as if he were cold. He walked a little faster. But it seemed like he couldn’t feel his feet. The silent houses, street lights and corners all passed him in a senseless blur, every inch of himself drawn inwards. Inside. Staring down himself and asking things he rarely cared to ask. He didn’t like the feeling. The uncertainty. The sensation of not really knowing who he was, or where he was going.

This night with Fujima had ended in exactly the way it ought to have done. With Sendoh walking out the door and not looking back. Their friendship still sound. Nothing weird. Nothing awkward. So why did he have this coldness following him as he walked? What was this... empty feeling he had?

He didn’t _want_ Fujima. Not like that. He was sure. He was very sure. They were friends and that was perfect.

But it seemed that he did want... _something_.

He tightened his grip on his jacket, troubled. He didn’t know what it was that was bothering him.

Eventually he found himself passing by one of the public basketball courts. This was Shoyo, and Sendoh hadn’t been here before, but they all looked very much the same. He paused there, for a moment, by the chain fence.

He played on a court very much like this one every day after school. Every day. With that ferocious force that was Rukawa Kaede. For a while, Sendoh stood and stared blankly across the concrete. _What do you get out of it?_ Fujima had asked him.

Thinking back, he wasn’t sure that he liked his answer.

He entered the court, and went to sit on one of the benches at the side. Moths fluttered around the streetlight above him. He sat there for a long time, doing nothing. Just staring between the baskets, first at one, and then at the other. He felt oddly comforted by the place. It was familiar. It was his home.

Still, he sat for a long time but still didn't feel like he was any closer to where he wanted to be. Still couldn't satisfy this bizzare itch that seemed to have sprung up inside of him.

Eventually he rose, turned his feet away, and continued walking.

Whatever the answer was, he decided he wasn’t going to stumble upon it tonight. Whatever he’d accidentally woken up within himself was going to take him a little more time to come to terms with.

-tbc

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sooooooooo down. Sorry if this is subpar. I can’t do anything right atm. Well the important thing is to catch rabbits!! The rest doesn’t really matter.


End file.
